“Have I given you the impression I want you to stay?” He sounds like he’s clenching his jaw, and a smile tugs at the corner of my lip.Finally, someone who doesn’t try to hide their frustration with me.
“It’s not up to you.”
“Pretty sure it is.” The voice comes from in front of me.
I open my eyes to find that he’s standing between the couch and the coffee table, looking down on me with barely contained exasperation. I bite back another grin.
“Pretty sure it’s not.” I shoot him a knowing smirk as I dig into my jeans and pull out the damp paper I stashed there earlier. “I’m supposed to meet Hayden.” I offer him the paper.
He ignores it, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You must be Ryder.”
“I guess that makes you Hayden?”
The guy doesn’t budge. With a heavy sigh, I heave myself off the couch and offer my hand.WTF? I didn’t mean to do that, but whatever. I guess my body remembers how to be polite even if my brain couldn’t give a shit.He’s still as an ice sculpture.
Hayden gives me a critical once-over as I pull a toothpick from my sweatshirt pocket and pop it in my mouth. We’re close enough that I can see dark brown irises with flecks of gold framed by thick lashes. They’re intense.Prettyactually, which is a totally random thought I don’t know what to do with. Fortunately, they’re still glowering at me, which is actually a nice change from the sad, pitying looks I’ve been getting—from the people who don’t avert their eyes, anyway.
That glare almost wakes my competitive side, something I haven’t felt in months. For a brief moment, I want to keep the banter going, to chase the memory of that feeling, but the little spark fades almost as quickly as it came on, too weak to break through my numb outer shell.
What doesn’t melt away is the sense that this guy is kinda cute with those plump, pursed lips, although I can’t for the life of me understand why my brain went there when I’ve never found a guy cute before.Is this some new variation of beer goggles, or am I actually talking to a girl?I sway slightly as I lean back to get a better look at his face.
“Are you drunk?” he hisses.
“No.” I’m hungover as fuck, but that’s not the same thing so I haven’t technically broken Carter’s rules.
“Are you sure? You smell like you took a swim in a bottle last night.” He manages to look down his nose at me despite being a few inches shorter.Impressive.
“Just a quick dip.” I shift the toothpick to the other side of my mouth with a merciless smirk.
“What’s the difference?” He lifts his brows.
“About half a bottle, but who's counting? So, where’s the locker room in this place again? I need somewhere to stash my gear while I play tour guide on the mountain.” I’m bending down to pick up my bag when he finally moves, blocking my path.
“A – you’re not here to play tour guide. You’re here to provide help and support to people who want to enjoy the things you clearly take for granted.” He pokes his finger into my chest. “And B – you aren’t working with anyone in your condition.”
Damn, he’s riled. It's kinda nice to have someone take the gloves off when they talk to me. Especially someone whose cheeks turn so damn pink with anger. The ice prick has passion in there somewhere. The old me would’ve pounced on that to get him into bed if he was a girl—I’ve always liked feisty—but fucking doesn’t hold any appeal anymore. Neither does playing nice. Maybe if I’m a dick I can still get out of this.
“Calm down, Frosty. I can ride in any position—I mean,condition.” I sit back down and kick my feet up to enjoy the show.
“Frosty?” he seethes as the blush climbs even higher.
“You prefer Ice Prick?”
That does it.
His chest heaves with the effort to stay calm. It’s the most real response anyone’s had to me in a while. Once again, that stirs something inside me. I just can't quite put my thumb on it. It’s not really arousal, despite the fact I can now say with certainty he’s an attractive guy. But it is stimulating, a spark of heat in my otherwise empty chest.
“Just because I take this job seriously doesn’t make me a frigid prick.” His nostrils flare so big I half expect fire to burst out of them.
“Careful, Frosty, if you don’t get that temper under control you’re gonna melt.”
If he could scorch me with a look I’d be engulfed in flames, but I can’t seem to stop baiting him. It’s sosatisfying.
“Just one more thing for you to mop up, seeing as how the closest you’re getting to the hill is to clean puddles off the floor,” he seethes, spinning around and stalking toward the office behind the reception area.
“Aren’t you gonna show me where all the supplies are?” I call after him.
“You’ve got a hundred hours, I’m sure you can figure it out before your time’s up. And no more sleeping on my couch.” The slamming door echoes in the silence.
